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Damian Valles, "Nonparallel (in Four Movements)"
This unusual release is the fruit of a three-year project in which Valles sampled, manipulated, and collaged material from Nonesuch's '60s and '70s avant-garde heyday.  Drawing upon the work of luminaries such as Charles Ives and Elliot Carter (using the original vinyl, naturally), Damian has woven together a crackling and vibrantly textured drone opus that doubles as an inventive (if unrecognizable) homage.
The first movement begins promisingly with a loooong, slow fade-in that gradually becomes a grinding, enveloping roar.  In fact, it is possibly the best part of the entire album–not because there is drop in quality afterward, but simply because it is so dense, complexly layered, and absolutely crushing.  It is impossible to determine what the original material could sounded like, as it basically sounds like a hundred string instruments slowed way down and pitch-shifted into unrecognizability.  The brilliance lies in the details though, as there are all kinds of stutters, scratches, and swells amidst the maelstrom that transform that single, massive chord into a sumptuous feast for the ears.  Ultimately, it all fades away again without evolving into anything more, but that works just fine: mesmerizing me for over ten minutes without any overt melodic or rhythmic movement at all is an impressive enough feat by itself.
The rest of the album adheres to the same template, as each piece seems like Valles froze a massive orchestra (or perhaps several) mid-note, then stretched, looped, and layered that instant into a roiling ocean of sound.  It is a pretty bizarre aesthetic, as the movements are all pretty simple and static on a large scale, but beautifully alive and insanely complicated on a smaller scale.  Equally important is the fact that this is not one of those albums where intense, focused listening is required to unearth its true beauty: Nonparallel is a massive, rumbling, and grinding steamroller of a drone album.  There are occasional moments where Damian softens to allow some shimmering, atmospheric touches, as he does in the third movement, but they are easily balanced out by crescendos that sound like an abattoir full of bandsaws or haunting swoops that sound like giant metallic birds.
The only possible downside to this album is that Valles was perhaps a bit too successful in transforming his source material, as anyone who is lured by its premise and hoping for recognizably detourned snatches of 20th century classical music will be thoroughly thwarted.  I do not fall into that category though, so I see Nonparallel as an unqualified drone masterpiece.  Damian deftly avoided all of the pitfalls that could threaten a project like this (a bloodless, academic feel; jumbled, incoherent collage; winding up with something that sounds like every other goddamn drone album; etc.) and then exceeded my expectations even more.  I have rarely heard anything drone-like that demands extreme volume like this album.  Valles did not spend those three years in vain: this is a gutsy, gritty, and bad-ass effort in all respects.
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